


One Life, One Death

by kayura_sanada



Series: Souls Made of Dream and Idea [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Cole Is A Great Friend, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Nightmares, Post Haven, Post In Hushed Whispers, Pre-Romance, Redcliffe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 06:57:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6505795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayura_sanada/pseuds/kayura_sanada
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pinga Lavellan cannot get over the events at Redcliffe so easily.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Life, One Death

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Literally nothing, save the character I created in my head and with the machine someone else designed. So, I literally only own pieces of one half of this pairing. Which means I cannot control the nearly inevitably shitty ending that we will face come DA4.

Notes: This takes place shortly after reaching Skyhold. In this, they have only been at the fortress for a few weeks. The place hasn't even been fully cleaned, though the work is steadily progressing, enough for the tavern and the main hall to not look trashed. (Because it going from awful to pretty good had to take longer than the quick leave and return it was in the game.) Lavellan was made Inquisitor, but has yet to speak with Solas in Skyhold, for reasons relating to this story.

* * *

 

Sometimes, when she was tired or worn out, she would go up the stairs of the tavern and sit with Cole.

He never minded. Or, if he did, he never said. He seemed content to stand in listen, to flit back and forth from his perch to whomever needed help at the moment.

It was soothing. Like the feel of bark beneath her feet and wind ruffling her hair, her bow limp in her fingers as she scanned the forest before her, the greens of the leaves shifting the sunlight into floral patterns. Here in Skyhold, where the forest lay so far from her, it was the one place she found herself not needing to be anything or anyone but herself. Cole, she had found out very quickly, never judged.

Usually he left her to her silence, allowed her to rejuvenate herself while he murmured what he heard, small hurts and pains too delicate for him to sort out just then. Pains he would consider later, and try to heal. Listening to the words was strange, but if she tuned it out slightly, it sounded almost like a melody. And every time, she came away with the knowledge that she should help, too. That her exhaustion came with the end of someone's suffering.

That day, however, the dip of that enormous hat turned her way. Cole tilted his head for an instant, then murmured, very lowly, “you saw it again. You didn't want to, but you did. Red, roaring, rumbling, raging like lightning in his eyes. You cannot stay here. This world is an abomination.”

She shuddered. Her heart trip-hammered in her chest despite how she held her breath and willed it to stop.

 

 

* * *

 

She looked down to the floors below them. The sound of Maryden's voice floated up from the main floor, and she thought she could just barely see Maryden's hand as she strummed her instrument. Someone laughed loudly from the second floor. Someone else hissed and said, “that's just what I've heard.” She tilted her head, wondering which rumor she'd missed. Cole came up to stand beside her. She sighed and closed her eyes. “It's just a dream.”

“A memory,” Cole said, his words more stating a fact than trying to correct. “His voice scared you when you heard it. It was nicer when he called you graceful.”

She blushed and looked quickly away.

“You can't look at him now. It hurts.”

She clenched her eyes shut. It was true. Before she'd gone to Redcliffe, her other favorite place had been beside Solas, listening to his stories about the Fade and spirits as the cold air whipped through Haven’s short homes. An unknown world lay in his mind. Now she tensed whenever she spoke with him, despite dragging him with her everywhere. As if knowing where he was would protect him. Even though bringing him with her had resulted in... that.

That loud someone laughed again. She wondered what they were talking about. Her hands clenched around the wooden railing.

The dreams were still frequent, even though a couple of months had passed since she'd returned from Redcliffe's future. From seeing Solas with burning red eyes and a voice as deep as the abyss the Forgotten Ones lay trapped within. From seeing Leliana, her body so mangled by torture there were scars on top of scars. From Solas and Blackwall looking at each other with grim determination, steeling themselves for a fight against the Elder One – Corypheus, she knew now – and his dragon. From Solas' lifeless body, carried in the gigantic hand of a terror demon, only to be thrown to the side like so much trash. Of Leliana being pulled to the chest of a Tevinter soldier as another demon shoved its arm through her body.

She opened her eyes, surprised she'd let them close. The world around her seemed too loud, too bright after the memory – the dream – so vivid behind her eyes. She could see dust motes falling through the air. Cole touched her arm.

“Sorry,” she said. She knew the memories were probably hurting him, too. It was likely a price he paid, one he suffered through until he could clear her of her pain.

“You should speak with them,” he said. She looked at him. Well, what she could see of him beneath the brim of his hat. His eyes were bright and steady on her, as clear as a crystal pond.

As always, something about him made her calm. The assurance that he legitimately cared, perhaps. “I know,” she said, and looked away again, back down to the lower railings and the legs and torsos of those below her. There was a metaphor there, one that could be used on her new status as Inquisitor, but it was depressing, and she disliked being depressing. “But it's not something I want to hand over to another. There isn't anything that can be done about it, and telling the others about it would only give them a new burden.” She let go of the railing and stepped back. “Don't worry, Cole. I'll find a way to be all right.”

Cole was frowning when she left.

 

 

* * *

 

She had already seen so many horrible, amazing, wondrous things since leaving her clan for the Conclave. The future she'd seen in Redcliffe should not have been that which haunted her at night. Of course, she knew the real reason why she was seeing it so often.

When she'd first met Solas, his eyes had been bright with passion. He'd grabbed her hand and thrown it up, his long, thin fingers clenched tight around her skin. His eyes had pierced her, demanded of her, of the world. Demanded things work. His brows had pulled low in his determination. His entire body had been encased with the fire of his ambition. She'd found herself drawn to it, to his strength and conviction, while her own world swirled and tumbled around her. And his smile, his confident stance as, at last, a stride forward was taken.

In all honesty, something about him had struck her from the start.

She had never truly believed in the _deravhenan_ before she'd met him. Of course there was love, and its _aravel_ , but that seemed far more realistic a proposition than the idea of some sort of link between two people. She thought everyone had the chance to get along, if only they worked toward the goal.

But she'd never felt such an instant kinship as she had with Solas. Such an instant appeal for a person's existence. She couldn't think of another way to put it. He turned to her, he spoke, and she found herself listening, almost leaning forward. Of course, it could just be the wide breadth of knowledge he held within him. He'd known how to treat her while she suffered from the Anchor, how to use it to close the Rifts. He understood the mysteries of the Fade, knowledge she'd always considered beyond her grasp. Who wouldn't be attracted to such a person?

In any case. Whatever the reason, she saw that man dragged into darkness, a darkness blazing bright with red light. She still remembered the way he'd turned to her, his slumped shoulders straightening as his eyes widened. She saw life return to him, there in that glowing cell, his voice distorted by the world she'd left him in alone. A place he never would have gone to if she hadn't dragged him with her.

Same for Blackwall, of course; but somehow his stoicism had survived his time in the cells, and her only regret with him had been that she'd failed him, as well.

Or, really, is was just that she always had her gaze on Solas, all the time.

It was bad enough, looking at Solas during those hours and seeing the dark red flame of his eyes. That alone had been unnatural and cruel. The thought of him locked up in that cell for a year made bile rise in her throat.

And then to know that he fought for the chance for her to return to the past. He'd been the one for the plan from the very beginning. The one who had brought up the chance for their return from the start. He'd been the one to insist she go. “You cannot stay here!” Cole had echoed. And she remembered those words well, and the frantic tone in which they'd been spoken.

Desperation. It had sounded like desperation.

So horribly different from the confident focus of the man she'd first met.

It was that man, that focus, that she couldn't let down. She never wanted to hear that panicked tone ever again.

She also never wanted to see that limp, lifeless form. But she did. Almost every night.

If she failed – if she didn't manage to defeat Corypheus – then she would see it again. And so long as that possibility remained, she didn't think the nightmares would ever dissipate. No matter what Cole tried.

When she woke to the nightmares for the third night in a row, she just covered her face in her hands and breathed deep. She would set out for the Hinterlands tomorrow. It was about time they settled that land once and for all.

Anything to keep her body too exhausted to dream.

 

 

* * *

 

The Hinterlands was already looking much better, what with the templars and mages either scared off or killed and the refugees finally sitting safely beneath the lookouts on the hills. But they still needed more blankets and food, and Pinga had decided that taking care of their problems would also have the added benefit, at the moment, of taking care of her own. She brought Cole and Solas with her, despite telling herself to leave Solas behind if she still wasn't ready, and carted Cassandra off when it became apparent that she and Varric were on the verge of all-out war. She'd grumbled the first few hours while Pinga shot down ram after ram, but a nice, long fight with a couple of bears seemed to put her in a brighter mood.

Pinga shot down her tenth ram partway through midday. With that last ram, she thought it should be enough, at least for a while, for the refugees to feast upon. If nothing else, she'd managed to laden the entire party with the meat. All that was left was finding more stockpiles of blankets scattered around the area. She decided that could wait until after they unburdened themselves and turned toward the main refugee camp.

It was a beautiful day. It usually was in the Hinterlands; she'd only seen it rain once, and then only for a few hours. For the most part, Elgar'nan's father seemed to bless this area. Perhaps that was because of the battles and the demand for retribution that had been called for in these areas for the past few years. Whatever the reason, she was grateful. A happy sky was a happy earth, and together, their beauty helped Pinga to ease the memories from her mind.

When at last they reached the village, she and the others dropped off the rations they'd found. She shooed her friends away, letting them partake of the village as they saw fit, and spoke with the villagers and soldiers to see what more could be done. It was an easy time, though she learned of the nearby dragon flying dangerously close to both the camp and Redcliffe. It would likely have to be taken care of, despite it merely attempting to eke out its own existence. No matter how much she loved nature, she could not choose one of its own over so many. But that would have to wait, if for Iron Bull than for anything else. She was certain that man would love the opportunity for such a fight.

After she spoke with Whittle over possible supply cache locations, she walked along the area searching for her friends. Cole she found first, oddly enough; he was holding a little girl's hands and speaking quietly. The little girl looked at him with avid interest, her chubby cheeks dropped as she gaped a little. Pinga smiled and turned away, allowing Cole his work.

Cassandra stood with the small militia, running them through what looked to be a training exercise. Most likely, she was testing them, teaching them. Preparing them for any raiders, looters, or templar or mage straggler. That, too, could wait.

Solas stood alone, when she finally found him. The railing of the small bridge over the pond in the camp held him up as she watched the sky. The Breach was closed, for all that the sky still seemed broken, somehow. His hands gripped the railing tightly. She couldn't help but wonder what went through his mind when he stared at it, or why he looked so haunted.

She avoided him. She knew she did, despite how she wished she did not. Just as she often had a hard time looking at Leliana's face and remembering how, despite the coldness the years had put on her, still she'd given her life for Pinga's return.

But that was not the right thing to do. Not to them, and not to herself.

“ _Aneth ara,”_ she said, the easy words slipping from her tongue before she even realized she was doing it. Still, Solas turned at her voice, and he smiled. She took it as an acceptance of her company and moved to join him. She kept a space between them, cognizant of Solas' desire for boundaries. Still, she thought she could feel the warmth of his body, even from a foot away.

Solas studied her for a moment before looking back to the sky. “How are you?” he asked.

She smiled. Solas was far too perceptive to not at least recognize that something had been bothering her, yet he'd respected her need for space. She considered telling him of her time in the future, but ultimately held it back. She'd meant it when she'd told Cole she didn't want others to carry the burden. “ _Ir sulahn-nehn_ , _falon._ I'm sorry I made you worry.”

The use of the word friend made Solas tilt his head, that considering gaze returning to her. She smiled easily, trying to show the truth of it. A light breeze brushed through the camp, sifting through the loose strands of her hair. She held it back with one hand before it could blow in her face. Solas' gaze changed for an instant before he turned his head away. “The people here are desperate and tired. They cannot see hope for the future.”

She wondered if this was one of those times when Solas seemed to speak in depths, commenting on one thing and covertly touching on a multitude of others. “That's why we're here,” she said. As usual, Solas gave his full attention to her when she spoke. He seemed to give his full attention to everything he did. “We'll give them hope. And when they have it, they'll give it to others, and those others to still more. Hope is something like a sickness. It spreads easily, and can fell even the most hardened of hearts.”

Pinga interlocked her fingers and leaned hard against the railing, letting her mind be soothed by the sounds of the water rippling below them. The grass whooshed softly as another breeze blew.

After a few moments, Solas stood straight. She looked at him. “If that is our goal, then we should not tarry.”

His gaze seemed lighter, somehow. She beamed. “Then let's go.”

 

 

* * *

 

Those first few nights, she slept without dreaming. She felt more rested than she had in weeks. They spent their time wandering the countryside, searching out the horrible Ocularum and the fascinating Astrariums, Cole making odd comments about it all. Cassandra might have bemoaned Cole's cryptic wording, but it made Pinga's curiosity flare. She wished she could understand him the way Solas seemed to. If nothing else, it had been wise to bring him, simply for the purpose of translating.

Which was a funny thought that had made her smile in the middle of doing nothing. It was like traveling in the _aravel_ all over again, with everyone bickering and joking and so many personalities working together to further the health of the clan.

But of course, the dreamless nights had to end eventually, and end they did.

The first thing she noticed was how, when she woke up sweating in the middle of the night, the air felt so chilly it was nearly cold. The second was the sounds around her; the chirruping of crickets and the long calls of the wolves far away. She controlled her breathing, let it hiss shallowly between her lips, and listened for her friends. Cassandra slept with her, and was a light sleeper to begin with. It took only a moment for the woman to realize she was awake and turn to her. _Fenedhis_. “Inquisitor?”

Pinga tried on a smile. “Sorry. Did I disturb you?”

It of course didn't have the intended effect of sending the woman back to sleep. Instead she sat up and peered through the darkness at Pinga's face. “What has woken you?” she asked.

It was nearly clear that it had been a dream, and saying it had been something else – a noise, a sense of danger – would only put the whole encampment on high alert. She tried to smile. “Sorry. I had a strange dream. I'm going to get some air. Please continue to rest. I won't leave the camp.”

Cassandra frowned, but Pinga just shooed her back down into her pallet and left the tent.

The air was even chillier when it blew against her skin. They'd rested at the camp by Dennet's home, just beside the stream. The sound of the water always soothed her, letting her imagine the forests the Lavellan clan roamed. The sound of campfire turned her toward the small pit in the middle of the camp, far enough away that it wouldn't take the night vision of those who guarded the camp's perimeter. The wood crackled merrily as the fire bleached the night sky. She looked up. The fire's brightness tinged her sight, but she could make out the bright white of the moon and a few of the sun's blood. She walked toward the bridge.

A guard on watch nodded to her as she made her way to the edge of the encampment. “No changes, Your Worship,” she said, and Pinga thanked her, trying once more to ignore the divine title people pushed upon her. She hoped the idea of Inquisitor overshadowed such remarks some day.

As promised, she stayed just within the circle of soldiers lining the camp. The bridge was similar in structure to the one by the refugee camp, and she took a moment to wonder who had built them. Had the Arl of Redcliffe commissioned their creation? It was a heedless, wandering curiosity, and she let it slide for the moment. If her mind wanted to conjure up inane thoughts, it would at least be better than the memories poking like thorns at the back of her mind.

It took less than a minute for Cole to sidle up next to her. She shouldn't have been surprised; she doubted spirits ever had need of sleep. But when he arrived, he merely stood beside her, that giant hat nearly poking her in the eye as he leaned over and stared down at the calm waters beneath them. “I'm all right,” she told him, not knowing if it was the truth or not. Knowing that it would be, come the morning.

“You hurt, but don't want to spread it. You fear the guilt more than the pain. I don't know how to help.”

She smiled. Yes, Cole always had a calming influence on her. “Just stay, for a little bit? It's good to know I have friends.”

“You do,” he said simply, and stayed. They watched the flicker of fins beneath the dark waves and waited for the day.

 

 

* * *

 

It took far longer than it should have to find enough stashes of cloth and blankets, but finally they brought back enough that Whittle thought the refugees would be properly cared for. They celebrated with another break, in which Pinga and Solas recruited a mage for the Inquisition, much to Cassandra's delight, and she broke off to study the materials and items for sale from the merchant. She sold him a few of the things she'd found, hoping the business would help the camp, and showed the children a game the _elvhen_ children played. The fair weather remained, and she decided to take the flowers she'd been given to the elf woman's grave. The day was going fine, everyone traveling easily through the countryside, until she saw the telltale green of a rift.

She took a deep breath. “Looks like the fun's over,” she said, and headed straight for it.

Shades and wraiths met them when they arrived. She nocked an arrow and pulled the string taut to her cheek. Unbidden, the memory of Solas' words came to her as she aimed, the knowledge that he had watched her fight, and had found her graceful. She blushed even as she loosed the arrow. The wraith she'd aimed for fell. She took down the second with two more arrows, then dipped her next into her explosive mix and burned the two shades Solas had helpfully frozen for Cassandra. They fell back from the hit. Cole stabbed one through the back, appearing from seemingly nowhere. Cassandra took care of the last just before Pinga loosed her next shot. The rift burst and tore, more demons shoving at the crack between worlds. More shades, three instead of two, pressed against the edge of the rift. She lifted her hand, then hesitated. Should she focus the Anchor's power here, against these demons they could defeat so easily? Or should she wait? If this rift existed here, there were likely others, like the one by the brook heading toward Dennet and his family. She should hold out for those more difficult enemies.

And then she spotted a terror demon clawing its way through, and she pushed out with the Anchor's power and tugged. The demon had little chance to do more than poke its thin, green body through the Fade to their world before disintegrating into dust. Only one shade survived her assault, and Solas and Cole took care of it while Cassandra guarded her attempts to disrupt the rift. It finally closed with a thunderous bang, the Anchor in her hand sizzling with energy as it did.

She took deep gulps of air and told herself not to be afraid. It was not the terror demon that had likely killed Solas. He was strong enough to handle such creatures, especially with Blackwall covering him. It would have been Corypheus, or his dragon, to finally still that beautiful mind. And it had been done in a future where she couldn't defend him herself.

Nonetheless, it had been the terror demon that had thrown him carelessly away, and the terror demon that had ended Leliana's life. Despite her mind telling her to use reason, her heart still remembered those moments.

Cole was right. She needed to speak with someone about this.

Solas watched her as she steadied herself. She gave him a tentative smile and turned to the others. “Everyone all right?” she asked, her usual question after a fight. Cassandra cleaned her sword as best she could before sheathing it. Cole looked down at his daggers, then wiped them on his clothes. It made her smile. “Let's get these flowers to Senna and see about the rest of the rifts.”

Terror demons weren't to be feared, she told herself. And if she truly didn't want Solas and Leliana to be harmed, the best thing she could do was close the rifts and keep the demons from crossing through.

The thought steadied her enough that, when they met the next terror demon, she stood fast against it, unafraid.

 

 

* * *

 

When they rested, this time near the lake with a beautiful waterfall rushing down just beside the tents, she didn't bother going to rest with the others. Instead she stayed out above the tents, beside the rushing waters. She let the spray drizzle against her as she sat contemplating the view below. The mages and templars had been routed, leaving the land below barren, but healing. The refugees needed no longer fear the daily battles that had once raged all around them. Beside her, curious but tentative, came a fennec, wishing to nibble upon the tiny fish darting beneath the surface at the edges of the lake. It seemed almost peaceful. For once, Cole did not come to stand beside her.

Instead, it seemed it was Solas' turn.

She looked up at the soft pad of footsteps, expecting Cole, or Cassandra, or even an Inquisition soldier. Instead she got the shock of seeing Solas heading toward her, breaching his own desire for seclusion to meet with her. He looked like moonlight taken form; he skin shone ethereally, his eyes catching the rays of the moon. The gray-brown of his irises looked almost silver in its light. As if dust from the stars had fallen upon him. She scooted slightly closer to the edge of the waterfall, trying to make it clear that he was welcome. Thankfully, he took the proffered seat next to her without a word.

She couldn't help taking quick glances at him as they sat together. Not from any fear or worry, but just because she could. Because her eyes were drawn to him. Her heart thudded heavily at the sight of him so near, at the smell of earth and fire that rose from his skin. At the heat of his skin so close to her own.

“Cole told me you carry the memories from Redcliffe,” Solas said, his soft voice seeming to match the cool touch of the night air. She nearly jumped at it.

Almost, she wanted to be angry with Cole for telling her secret. But it was what he did, in order to help. And it was what she'd just been trying to convince herself to do. So for that, she smiled. “Yes,” she said simply, and left it at that.

Solas watched her, for a time, before turning his gaze on the land far below them. “I cannot know what you saw,” he said. “But it needn't be the future. You are already on your way to changing it.”

Her heart practically tripped over itself in its rush to hammer against her skin. “I know,” she said. It made him turn back to her. “I know we'll be all right. We already stopped Alexius and freed the mages. We closed several rifts today, as well. And, though we suffered a defeat from Corypheus, we managed to survive it. We may even grow stronger from it, if what Josephine and Cassandra say is true. And we've just gotten started.” She linked her hands together and leaned forward. The spray of the water was cold, and she shivered. “In my mind, I know it will be all right. But in my heart, I still remember the fates of my friends.” She didn't mention him, or Blackwall, or Leliana. She didn't think she needed to. Not with him. “I saw what it would cost them, and the world, if I failed. I'm just one person. For me, knowing that those I care about would be harmed so much by my disappearance, is a heavy enough burden.”

Solas had nothing to say for that. There was nothing to add. It was heavy, and terrifying, and inevitable. Her time of being a simple clansman was gone forever.

“ _Melava inan enansal,”_ Solas said, his words like a whisper in the night. _Time was once a blessing_. _“Ir su aravel tu elvaral.”_

She recognized the words from the old _elvhen_ song, and finished for him. _“U na emma abelas.”_ She wanted to take his hand in hers. She remembered how that song ended. That, if one was certain in their desires, the path would emerge and lead them to happiness again. Somehow, he had once more made her heart lighter. She laughed at the sheer relief of it. “ _Ma serannas,_ Solas.”

Instead of accepting her thanks and taking his leave, Solas stayed with her, allowing her the simple comfort of a friend. Sometimes, she thought, he and Cole were a lot alike.

She couldn't lean against him, or lay her hand on his. Not yet. But perhaps, if she was lucky, she may be able to sometime soon.

When the dreams returned again that night, She sang the song of her people in her head. Though it did not alter the sting of the memories, it did lessen the pain. Her path would be one that ensured this future never happened. So long as she kept that goal in mind, that path would appear. These memories, these dreams, would be no more than a reminder of the purpose of her journey.

The dream eventually woke her, but not in the panic from before. This time she could close her eyes again, and when she saw visions of her friends, it was as they were now, and not of the future that would never be.

Leliana, she saw as the mistress at the height of her tower, the shadows her home. Blackwall she saw carving his rocking horse with such scrutiny as to tune out the rest of the world. And Solas, she chose to see bathed in starlight. In her dreams, where it was safe, she imagined taking her hand in his as they gazed toward the sky.

 

 

* * *

 

“You slept well,” Cole said come morning. “I'm glad.”

Cassandra sighed with what could only be some form of relief. Pinga blushed as she realized she hadn't hidden anything from anyone. Still, after Cassandra's pleased smile, the woman straightened her face and called for them to start closing the rest of the rifts. Solas said nothing, maintaining his distance as if nothing had happened the night before.

“Yes,” she said, answering Cole's words as if he'd asked a question. She turned away from Solas, her heart lighter than it had been in days. Weeks. “Thank you, Cole.”

Cole smiled at the praise. As they left, Cassandra took point. This time when the terrors came through the rift, Pinga didn't flinch, not even once.

 

 

* * *

 

It wasn't too long before they had to return to Skyhold. The place looked like it had gone through some sort of revolution. The loose boards that had once littered the main hall were gone entirely, with only a few loose bricks still to be cleared. Tables and chairs had been set up, with the entire ensemble leading straight to the chair in which Pinga sat in judgment of others, her duty demanding she act beyond her station. The keeper and her first were often those who led the people, who tried and judged those who threatened the _aravel_. She was neither of those. Just a child of the clan, who had been fortunate enough to be taken in by Istimaethoriel after the night things had gone wrong.

Here, she was bowed to, curtsied to, called to. Likely, she thought with no small horror, prayed to. Her gaze shifted toward the first door to the right, the bright, round room that she knew Solas had turned into his research chamber. As soon as they'd returned to Skyhold, he'd made a beeline for it, taking the shards they'd collected with him. It had almost been funny to watch, his curiosity even more insatiable than her own. Cassandra had gone straight to the barracks to check on the recruits, and Cole had flitted away, presumably to take care of hurts only he could hear.

Varric saw her staring and waved. She waved back. It seemed he'd managed to send off his latest manuscript in peace; she didn't see any stockpile of pages by his elbow anymore. She went up to speak with him for a few minutes, then left to scrape off the dust from the road.

She should speak with everyone. Varric had mentioned a friend he wanted to show her. It was likely only the start of more to come, and she needed to make sure her friends were taken care of. Heal the hurts, as Cole might say, and, perhaps just as important, strengthen their bonds.

After taking a bath and changing into her more comfortable ranger's attire (though it was labeled 'adventurer style' by Cassandra and Vivienne), she went around doing just that. She stayed with Dorian as he mourned the loss of his friend, Felix. She listened to Vivienne extol on the virtues of the chantry and the circle, though she wondered how accurate the woman's interpretation was when they were dealing with the results of such thinking even as she spoke. She went to Cullen and listened to his thoughts on Corypheus and the disaster at Haven. She and he sat and formulated a few plans, though it was really more him thinking out loud and her listening attentively. He nearly shooed her out when he realized what he was doing, and she moved around to The Iron Bull, and Sera, and Cole once more, though he was busy taking care of others and could only spare a short time for her. He did, however, thank her for letting him stay. She waved the thanks away, more upset that he thought he needed to say it than happy to hear it. She caught Blackwall carving and stayed for a while, watching him work, until he felt too awkward about it and she left.

It was evening when she stepped once more into the Keep. She'd avoided heading up to speak with Leliana. Not because she was still afraid, exactly, but because she doubted the woman would let the matter rest once she learned of it. Unlike Solas, she would scour the earth for information. If she didn't pick it from Pinga's brain, she would likely hound poor Dorian's every step.

Well, after she spoke with Leliana, she would have to warn her friend.

She headed up the stairs, passing Dorian with a wave, though he didn't see it, his nose pressed so closely to a book. She let her hand drop and raced to the top of the tower, toward the crows that squawked at her every move and the boxes that had yet to be unpacked. Leliana stood within the chaos with a commanding ease, sending scouts and couriers out practically before they could hand in their reports.

She sucked in a deep breath. She could do this. And it would be good practice for the next conversation on her agenda – Solas. With whom she needed to speak. On an entirely different matter.

That was also a part of the path she'd chosen. She just hoped that it would emerge.

 _Lath aravel ena  
_ _Arla ven tu vir mahvir_

And the path will emerge  
To a home tomorrow

She steadied her breath and went to speak with her adviser.

**Author's Note:**

> Deravhenan – Literally “touch heart.” Founded almost entirely from http://lingojam.com/ElvenDAI, as there is literally no translation for “touch” on the Dragon Age wiki, and nothing else available on there came close to the idea. In this story, it means the equivalent of a soulbond, or a meeting between two people that leads to a deep and important relationship. Not necessarily romantic.
> 
> Aravel – Yes, it's the term for the wagons used by the Dalish, but it also literally means “a physical and spiritual path; a journey with purpose.” This meaning is still used by the elves to this day.
> 
> Aneth ara – “A sociable or friendly greeting, more commonly used among the Dalish themselves rather than with outsiders. Literally: 'My safe place'.”
> 
> Ir sulahn-nehn – Literally “I am joy/happiness.” I used this due to “ir abelas,” meaning literally “I am sorrow,” being basically translated to mean “I sorrow” or “I'm sorry.” Here, it would be “I joy” or “I am happy / I am well.”
> 
> Falon – Friend.
> 
> Fenedhis – A common curse, meaning unknown. Supposedly the equivalent of “crap.”
> 
> Elvhen – the term used by the elves for their own people.
> 
> Song lyrics are from the song “Suledin,” meaning “Endure.” Lyrics (with very loose translation):
> 
> Melava inan enansal  
> Ir su araval elvaral  
> U na emma abelas
> 
> (Time was once a blessing  
> But long journeys are made longer  
> When alone [sorrowful??] within.)
> 
> Ma serannas – Thank you.


End file.
